“We got another one.”
Detective Beck sighed. Of course there was another one. There was always another one. This thing was out of control, and all her knucklehead colleagues could think of was the extra overtime.
“On it, Chief.”
Her garrulous commanding officer gave a hearty chuckle and waved a finger in mock chastisement.
“Careful now, Dots! Don’t go in all-guns blazing – remember the last time ya charged in half-cocked; cost the City a friggin’ fortune and almost cost me my ass!”
Dorothy Beck bit her tongue. She remembered that op alright – she’d been the one trying to prevent her trigger-happy responders from shooting the place up. That the attempt was made, albeit in vain, seemed to have been forgotten by all involved. Blame the fuckin’ woman, right boys? She quickly shook the thought out of her head. It wasn’t the first time, and sure as hell wouldn’t be the last, that the dark suspicion arose in her mind; she was the department scapegoat.
“It’s just a Caffeiteria boss. Wired, juiced-up, energetic tweakers so jumpy and paranoid that even a knock on the door could set ’em off. What could possibly go wrong?”
‘Dots’ braced herself for the inevitable, unoriginal mantra…
“Like I always say; A ‘feind in need is a ‘feind indeed!”
More than a few of the gathering officers groaned at this, to the Chief’s evident chagrin.
“Yeah, yeah… Just get out there and put a stop to all this coffee an’ soda shit – an’ get a fuckin’ sense of humour if there’s time left over, alright? Make the City proud.”
Lock and load. As Beck watched the Divisional rapid response ‘Spearhead’ force pile into their brand new, military-grade APC, she wondered who really benefited from Prohibition: The people, safeguarded from the dangers of Caffeine? The police, with the increase in budget to go after the scourge of speak-easy Caffeiteria? Or the higher-ups, who could compete for popularity based purely on their toughness on the Caff trade?
Sliding into the driver’s seat of her BYD Sun Tzu®, Dorothy sighed. In over a decade since all Caffeine products were banned on the American Continent, what had been achieved? As she pressed the starter button on the dashboard and felt the electric motor whir into life, she couldn’t help wondering…
Maybe people should be allowed to consume whatever they want, even if it means they’re more likely to get Parkinson’s, Type II Diabetes, Hyperglycemia, Ketoneria hepatetic & cardio diseases…? Fuck. Scoffing at her own naivety, Beck decided that she must have been listening to too much of those radical podcasts by that wingnut MC Phil E. Buster. She activated the intercom.
“Let’s get this show on the road, you pricks. Do some good.”
Solidarity, brothers & sisters…